Grinsa looked displeased, but he knew better than to argue with Kearney.

"Go with her, Archminister," Kearney said. "Take her to my private quarters."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Keziah glanced at Grinsa as she waited for Cresenne by the door. Her brother eyed her briefly, then gave a small nod, one none of the others would have noticed.

The two women left the chamber, walked down the corridor to the nearest of the castle's spiral stairways, and climbed to the next floor. From there, it was but a short walk to the king's private quarters. Cresenne said nothing as they walked. Keziah assumed that she was too angry with Grinsa, or just unwilling to show any courtesy to a servant of the king. But only when they reached the door and it occurred to the minister that she was still carrying Bryntelle did she realize that the woman was too distracted to speak. Keziah could guess as to why.

"Why don't you hold her," she said, holding Bryntelle out to the woman.

"What?" Cresenne looked at her briefly, then blushed deeply, taking the baby from her. "Of course. Thank you."

Keziah pushed open the door, motioning the woman inside.

Cresenne took the chair closest to the hearth, loosened her shirt and placed the child so that she could reach her breast. Bryntelle began to suckle immediately.

Keziah had to smile at the sounds the child made as she fed. It was hard to believe that such a small person could make so much noise.

"She's a beautiful child."

Cresenne smiled, though she didn't look up. "Thank you."

"It's hard for me to think of Grinsa as a father."

That did draw the woman's gaze. Keziah wished instantly that she had kept that thought to herself. She wanted to win the woman's trust. Making it clear from the outset that she was Grinsa's friend wasn't likely to make matters easier for her.

"You know him?"

"We grew up together." Hiding the truth about Grinsa had become habit by now. She didn't even have to think about it anymore.

"You know him well, then."

"To the extent that anyone does."

Cresenne seemed to weigh this, looking down at the baby again. For a time she seemed to wrestle with somethinga"Keziah guessed that Cresenne wanted to ask if she knew of Grinsa's powers. In the end, she seemed to decide against it.

"Were you ever his lover?" she asked instead.

Keziah smiled. "No."

"But you care for him."

"Very much."

"I wish I'd never met him." This she said quietly, as if to herself.

"If you'd never met him, you wouldn't have Bryntelle."

"Will he really take her from me?"

"I believe he will. He'll grieve at doing so, but he's stubborn and when he decides he wants something, he won't be deterred. You can establish Tavis's innocence, and you can tell us a great deal about the conspiracy. That's what he wants, and if you refuse him, he'll take her."

"His own child."

"Don't be too quick to judge him," Keziah said, her anger growing. "She's your child as well, and yet you risk losing her to save yourself."

Cresenne glowered at her for a moment, then looked away.

"You don't understand."

"Understand what? That you're frightened. That you fear betraying the conspiracy lest word of what you've done gets back to the Weaver?"

Her gaze snapped up once more, her mouth dropping open.

"Yes," Keziah said. "I know about your Weaver."

"You're the one who told Grinsa about him," Cresenne whispered.

It was close enough to the truth. "Yes."

"So he was protecting you in there."

"I suppose."

"But how did you learn of the Weaver?"

"That's not important."

"It would be to him."

Keziah felt the color drain from her face.

"I expect it would be to your king as well, since he obviously knows nothing of the Weaver yet."

Keziah started to deny this, but Cresenne stopped her with a shake of her head. "Don't bother lying to me. If your king knew, Grinsa would have spoken of the Weaver openly a few moments ago." She stared at Keziah for some time, looking thoughtful. "Have you betrayed him? Is that it?"

"No."

"That's the only explanation that makes sense."

She wanted to protest her innocence. It was one thing to play the traitor in her conversations with the Weaver, who walked in her dreams and never revealed his identity; it was quite another to have this woman thinking she had betrayed her king and her land. But as she continued to think about it, she realized that having Cresenne believe she was a traitor would help her continue her deception. The Weaver had access to Cresenne's thoughts just as he did to Keziah's. If the minister could make this woman believe that she was with the conspiracy, it might help her allay whatever doubts remained in the Weaver's mind.

"If I was with the conspiracy, why would I be trying to convince you to tell them what they want to know?" She wouldn't lie to the woman. Better to let Cresenne provide her own answers.

"To deflect the king's suspicions, and Grinsa's for that matter."

"That makes no sense."

"Doesn't it? For all I know, the Weaver wants me to betray the movement. He doesn't trust me as he once did. He'd probably like an excuse to kill me. So he gets you to befriend me, to wheedle information from me."

He doesn't trust me as he once did. Perhaps there was another way. Perhaps this woman could be trusted with the truth after all.

"From what I've seen of your Weaver, he doesn't need an excuse to kill those who serve him, particularly if he loses faith in them. Besides, the answers I seek from you will hurt your conspiracy, not help it. You had an assassin kill Brienne. If you'll admit that, it may allow us to win back Kentigern's loyalty and avoid the civil war your Weaver wants so desperately."

"Now I know you're with the conspiracy. You know too much about the Weaver and his wishes."

"You say he doesn't trust you anymore. Does he know whose child you carry? Does he know who and what Grinsa is?"

Cresenne swallowed, nodded.

"What will he think when he learns that the two of you are together?"

"If you're threatening me it won't work. The Weaver has told me to find Grinsa. He'll be pleased."

"I'm not threatening you, Cresenne, and I'm not with the conspiracy. But I know the Weaver well enough to realize that if he's had doubts about you already, your presence here with Grinsa and the child you share will only serve to deepen them." She knelt before Cresenne, looking up at her. "Your time with the movement is over," she said softly. "Surely you see that."

There were tears on the woman's face, and she brushed them away quickly, as if annoyed. "It's not that easy. He can find me anytime he wants. If I try to leave the movement, he'll kill me. I know it. I don't get to decide when my time is over. Only he has that power."

"He's not as strong as you think he is."

"Perhaps I've been wrong about you. If you were with the movement you'd know how foolish you sound. Of course he's strong. He's a Weaver."

"So is Grinsa. And if you'd stop pretending that you feel nothing for him anymore, you'd understand that he wants to protect you. Both of you."

"He can't protect me. No one can."

Keziah shrugged. "Perhaps you're right. But you have two choices, Cresenne. You can remain with the movement, protecting its secrets and its leader. That path leads to Kearney's dungeon and it leaves your daughter without a mother. Or you can trust Grinsa and me, and try to make right some of the damage you've done over the past few years. I don't know where that path leadsa"none of us doesa"but at least you'll get to find out with Bryntelle in your arms and her father by your side."

Cresenne didn't respond, and after several moments Keziah climbed to her feet again, intending to leave.

"I'll let you think about it. If you need me I'll be just outside the door."

"Why did you say that before?"

"Say what?"

"That the Weaver isn't as strong as he thinks he is. If you're not with the conspiracy, how can you know all that you do?"

Keziah hesitated. There was so much peril in what she was about to do. "Were I to tell you, I'd be placing my life in your hands. You wouldn't be able to tell anyone, not even the Weaver. Especially the Weaver."

"It's very difficult to keep things from the Weaver."

"But it can be done."

Cresenne's eyes widened. "You are with the conspiracy," she whispered. "But as an agent of the king."

She nodded. "In a sense, yes. Although Kearney doesn't know. He . . . wouldn't approve."

"How long?"

"Not very. Just over a turn."

"If the Weaver finds outa""

Keziah shuddered, but managed a wan smile. "I know. But I've found a way to conceal my loyalties while making him believe that I've opened myself to him fully. That's what you must do, Cresenne, not only for yourself and Bryntelle but for me as well. And for Grinsa."

"Why would you trust me with this?" the woman asked, shaking her head.

"Because I've seen how you look at that baby. Anyone who can love one child so much is capable of doing good, no matter what she's done in the past."

"There are those who'd say you're a fool to trust me, Grinsa foremost among them."

"I know. And I'll tell Grinsa what I've done. If you betray me to the Weaver, and I die because of it, I assure you Grinsa will avenge me. Our bond goes deep."

Cresenne held her gaze. "I understand."

I doubt that. "Good. I'll wait for you in the corridor."

She let herself out of the chamber, her hands trembling and her mind filled with doubts. Perhaps she was a fool. But after confiding in no one but the swordmaster for so long, it felt good to have placed her faith in another, no matter the risks.

For a long time after the two women left the chamber, none of the men spoke. Grinsa gazed at the door, as if he longed to follow them. His sister, his lover, his daughter. The three most important people in his life. For more than half a year, Tavis had seen the lengths to which the gleaner had gone to protect him. He could only imagine what the man would do to keep these three safe.

The king still sat by the hearth, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands folded together. There was a troubled look in his eyes and Tavis could see the muscles in his jaw clenching.

"Can they be trusted together?" Gershon Trasker asked at last, staring after the women much as Grinsa was. The swordmaster reminded Tavis a good deal of Hagan MarCullet, his father's swordmaster, whose son, Xaver, remained Tavis's pledged liegeman to this day. Like Gershona"maybe like all Eandi warriorsa"Hagan was suspicious of Qirsi, and quickly grew impatient with talk. Gershon's hand rested on the grip of his sword. It almost seemed that he was waiting for Kearney to give him leave to draw his blade and bring the women back.

"Give them some time," the king said softly. "Perhaps Keziah can convince her to talk to us."

Grinsa turned at last to face Kearney. "I'm sorry that I couldn't, Your Majesty."

"It's not your fault, gleaner, but rather mine for asking you to question her. It seems clear that she wanted to do whatever she could to hurt you."

"She had cause."

"She had cause?" Tavis repeated, barely able to believe what he had heard. "She betrayed you, sent an assassin for you, gave gold to the men who killed Brienne! And you're blaming yourself?"

"The lad's right," Gershon said. "You've done nothing to her that she didn't deserve. In my opinion, you've shown her too much kindness."

The king shook his head. "It's not as easy as all that, Gershon, and you know it. She's had his child." He glanced at Grinsa. "And if I'm not mistaken, before her betrayal you loved her very much."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Love . . . complicates matters."

Something in the king's tone told Tavis that he was speaking as much of himself as of Grinsa. He knew that the king and his archminister, Grinsa's sister, had once been lovers, and it seemed from what he had observed since their arrival in the City of Kings the day before, that their love had ended since last he saw them.

"It does, Your Majesty."

"Do you think she'll actually risk losing her child just to spite you? Does her thirst for vengeance run so deep?"